K Project: REACH
by PastelDreame
Summary: As two 'kings' clash, their clans remain restless and worried. However, just before their battle can reach a seemingly inevitable conclusion, the Dresden Slate contacts Anna with a proposal that will change the course of everything! Starts during episode 13. Mikoto/Older!Anna. Yata/Fushimi, implied Reisi/Seri and implied Izumo/Seri. Ocs. Rating subject to change.
1. Prologue

**K Project: REACH**

 _Prologue_

Hey, reader. Let me tell you a little about REACH before you dig in.

REACH is an **AU** story, which takes a turn away from the original path of the series. There are references to K Side (Red. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to find a consistent or full translation of Blue, and I know that deals with a lot with Reisi, so I'm just working with what I know) as well as Memory of Red, Days of Blue and other written works. It starts during episode 13, shortly after Izumo scolds Yata for acting out in front of Anna, who appears to remain calm.

That's all.

Cue the disclaimer!

 **Disclaimer:** K Project does not belong to me.

* * *

 _Oh, bellow,_

 _And the city quakes with your anguish, it burns with your nightmares._

* * *

 _"Once, there was a looovely princess who encountered a haaandsome prince!"_

 _._

 _"...Tatara, why do the princesses never meet a king?"_

 _._

 _._

 _"Hm, well...it's because the King and Queen have already found each other at the beginning of the story."_

* * *

 _HOMRA is a frantic mass of energy._

 _Yata is shifting back and forth on his feet with his skateboard tucked under his arm, groaning on that they should go to Mikoto's aid._

 _Kamamoto is standing a couple feet away from him with his hands tucked in his sweatpants pockets, but he's clearly run out of words to dissuade their vanguard. His head is bent down and he wears a frown on his mouth. His eyes are obscured by his usual green shades._

 _Fujishima looks after an unconscious Eric._

 _Bandō and Shōhei are apparently having a one-sided argument, though this is nothing too unusual._

 _Everyone else is fidgeting or expressing their distress in some way or another._

 _But Anna...Anna is quiet._

 _She is mute and still, like a doll left alone in the softly descending snow. Her rosy eyes are centered on the sky, watching the two large, sword-shaped objects that hover there. Now and then, they emit menacing amounts of power simultaneously that deflect one another, causing the air around them for miles to waver. It's a terrible feeling that shakes her to the core, but Anna's heart has been arrested by the phenomenon entirely._

 _Even if it upsets her deeply, she cannot look away from the scene before her._

 _In that far distance, a certain Sword of Damocles' crumbling visage trembles, denoting that the Red clan's King has suffered an attack._

 _In her lap, the Strain's dainty fingers clench and release the satin fabric of her clothing as she battles against the uneasy feelings bubbling vigorously within her tiny frame._

 _"Mikoto..." she whispers worriedly, without thinking. She doesn't realize she's spoken out loud, until Izumo places a large, warm hand on her much smaller shoulder._

 _Anna lifts her pale face to look at him, red orbs shining with awe; the corners of Izumo's mouth turn up slightly around the unlit cigarette that dangles there._

 _Unsure of what to say, the small girl dips her head back down and stares at the snow-covered ground._

 _"...The sun will go down soon," she mumbles after a while. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see that Eric has finally woken up. Fujishima appears to be questioning his absence with a concerned look, but the blond, just awoken and still in a dazed stupor, quickly becomes frustrated. He responds by shouting some indiscernible profanity and crossing his arms._

"Will Mikoto be back by then?" _she wonders, but the thought refuses to leave her mouth._

 _Anna traces her fingers along the soft skin of her throat; it's as though the words have somehow become stuck there._

 _"Anna..." There is a sudden, gentle pat on her head._

 _The young girl jumps with a small start and tilts her face up once more to see Izumo still smiling at her._

 _"This was Mikoto's decision," he reminds her warmly. "As his clansmen, what we can do now is believe in him."_

 _As the blond lights his cigarette and begins to walk away, Anna softly blinks her doll-like eyes and watches him leave._

 _Izumo's words leave a trail of thoughts behind in her mind, along with the thin wisps of smoke that unfurl against the twilight horizon._

* * *

Izumo wishes he had more than words to comfort his clansmen.

The charged atmosphere has created a magnitude of unrest among HOMRA. He's smoked an entire pack of cigarettes just within the last three hours.

All he has left is a third of a pack of _Blue Spark_ , which he picked off from Seri the last time she 'happened upon' his apartment. Later, he had been surprised to find them left on the counter in his small bathroom and wondered when she started smoking.

Thinking about that particularly clumsy event, Izumo makes a face, flips the top back on the carton and slowly tucks it back into his back pocket with a grunt of displeasure.

 _Blue Spark_ is an attractive and enjoyable brand, but there are some things about it he thinks he could do without.

As Anna had mentioned an hour ago during their brief conversation, the sun has finally gone down.

It's dusk now, and still, the opposing Swords of Damocles invade the sky with their overwhelming power. As great, nearly unidentifiable shapes shrouded by the creeping cover of night, they occasionally glitter with power that comes like sudden bursts of fireworks.

 _Red and Blue, consistently at odds._ Izumo thinks this as he taps the ash off the end of his tobacco stick. He sighs, watching his fellow clansmen spread themselves along the snow-covered clearing from a tilted slab of school rubble where he's perched himself. Seeing them as they are now, long-faced and anxious–it's so unlike the rowdy, go-get'em HOMRA he has nurtured thus far.

He can't help thinking that if Tatara were here, he might get some kind of laugh out of it.

Coming in and attempting to comfort everyone with that shamelessly simple way of thinking...

 _"What's wrong, everyone?_

 _...Don't sweat it! It'll all work out somehow."_

Something like that.

The bar owner drops his cigarette to the ground and smothers the embers under his shoe.

He's pretty sure that simply saying it will all "work out somehow" will not make anyone here feel better, let alone improve the situation.

So, then...

What _can_ he do?

Watching Yata halfheartedly attempt to whack Kamamoto over the head with his skateboard, Izumo recalls his talk with Anna.

 _"As his clansmen, what we can do now is believe in him."_

Certainly, he had said such a thing at the time. It was all he could think of to say without being completely dishonest. Hearing the stark abjection in Anna's voice as she said Mikoto's name had nearly broken his heart in two.

The truth–the one that would claw at the back of his mind and keep him up at night–was that he had been aware of how this would end from the beginning.

Ever since his off-the-record discussion with Seri in the bar after Mikoto's arrest...no, even before that, he had begun to realize HOMRA's approaching end.

When the lion tamer had left the ring, he'd forgotten to close the cage door for the beast.

 _"You were the best King we could have asked for."_

Those had been the words he'd used as he parted with his best friend, and he meant them completely.

A King who reigned with violence, yet harbored a gentle heart...

The idea probably seems utterly ridiculous to anyone else, but for HOMRA, that kind of person had fit just fine as their leader.

 _The next Red King..._ Yards away, Izumo eyes Anna as she lifts her small hands in front of her to catch the falling snowflakes.

He can't help wondering what kind of person they will be.

* * *

Anna knows death.

She has foreseen it; has touched it many times.

No amount of power wielded by a human can reverse it. It's a promised, irrevocable fate for every naturally living thing.

But right now, she's wishing that weren't true; wishing to stop the impending catastrophe that she can feel slowly charging up in the air. The one truth that she doesn't want to look at directly; the truth that Izumo won't exactly admit to her or HOMRA, either.

Mikoto is likely going to die soon.

If they don't do anything...if they don't intervene, Mikoto will probably fight off the Blue King and then kill the Colorless King with whatever strength he has left.

Neither her marbles nor the unique connection they share are necessary to reach this conclusion; this heavy atmosphere is all the confirmation she needs.

Anna lifts her palms in front of her, splaying her fingers so that the white little flurries of snow can softly slip through them. Some of them wind up making contact with her skin and begin to melt almost immediately.

When Mikoto's sword of Damocles falls, she wonders if the blast that ultimately kills him will be quick.

A swift death for her King without any pain...

...But, she doesn't _want_ that; she doesn't want Mikoto to die.

The young Strain watches the cold water drip off her fingertips and disappear into the snow.

Eventually, she closes her eyes.

She doesn't know what to do at times like this. Even Izumo is feeling down. Normally, Tatara would be here to make everyone feel better.

 _But Tatara is..._

Anna presses her shaking hands to her chest. The thin, frigid air chafing against her skin and moving through her lungs almost hurts. The greatest warmth she has ever known lessened when Tatara died, and now, most of what is left of that warmth is too far for her small hands to reach.

Too weak to protect it, at any moment, it feels as though the fire that kindled around her once could be blown away by this bitter wind.

Anna's eyes prick with tears that catch a spark of red light in the sky.

Since joining HOMRA, she had nearly forgotten what the light weight of her own significance feels like.


	2. Chapter One

**K Project: REACH**

 _Chapter One_

 **Note:** I have no idea what they could have been saying shortly before Yashiro showed up, so I sprinkled in a little more banter before that part for a smoother transition.

I'm almost done with the fourth chapter, so I thought I would go ahead and post the first one.

 **Warning:** Brief descriptions of **torture** can be found in this chapter.

* * *

Mikoto's shoes slide back across the snow as he turns his body to avoid the long blade of Reisi Munakata's scepter, _Tenrō_.

"Not bad," he grunts a compliment to the Captain of Scepter 4. He's having much more fun than he originally intended, but it's their last battle, after all.

Besides, it won't be long before _he_ shows up...

Smirking, HOMRA's King ignites his fist with red flames, rockets forward and retaliates with a fiery jab.

The Blue King swats Mikoto's fist with the blunt side of his blade and leaps back. As the two stand at opposite ends of the otherwise vacant field, the dark-haired man lowers his weapon. "Suoh, how long do you intend to bide your time?" he wants to know. "Will you really not reconsider?"

 _Think more about the people around you,_ Reisi almost wants to say. He knows the likelihood of the Red King considering any advice regarding his own clansmen is unquestionably low–especially if it's to come from his rival, the Blue King.

"Nope," Mikoto answers simply, tossing up a scorching barrier just as Reisi's scepter comes slicing down at him again. It's clear he favors their battle more over any further discussion.

That's just the thing about Mikoto Suoh: Similar to a barbarian who would pick violence over any form of verbal communication, he's not one who can be negotiated with.

 _Well_ , Reisi expands his aura and puts forth a shield of his own as the Red King unleashes a barrage of flame-engulfed kicks. He looks toward the sky as Mikoto temporarily retreats and notices the Colorless and Silver Kings' swords of Damocles are still making their way toward their location.

He cannot give up. After all, this has become much bigger than the two of them.

* * *

The clash between the two Kings continues.

Munakata is showing no obvious signs of wearing down, but Mikoto knows better; knows that just like him, the other is nearly at his limit.

Just as they part to prepare for another intense exchange of blows, their anticipated guest finally makes his appearance.

The white-haired male alights in the center of the field and stands between them.

"Isn't this the guy you're looking for?" he asks the Red King, a pained look on his face. He's struggling to keep the Wild Card–the Colorless King–within his body. "Hurry," the Silver King urges, "only a King can kill another a King..."

Mikoto doesn't have to be told twice.

"Ah," he acknowledges, flaring up all the power he can into a single hand. Munakata's shouts go unheard as he draws back, sporting a satisfied sneer.

Screw whoever said there's no merit in revenge.

"Thanks for bringing him to me!"

* * *

The searing heat of the blast sweeps through the clearing. It's so intense that, some miles away, it turns the thick, powdery snow beneath Anna's feet to slush on contact.

By the time she lowers her arms away from her face, the intensity of the pillar of light that erupted toward the sky has lessened somewhat. Mikoto's sword still levitates above the trees, but the pulse she detects from it feels significantly weaker than before.

To confirm, the Strain withdraws a red marble from her pocket and holds it up to her eye.

The tiny image she sees leaves her nearly hyperventilating.

It appears there's not much time before his 'Damocles Down'...

Anna's limbs suddenly feel like jelly. She slowly sinks to her knees in the melting snow, her white hair fluttering around her shoulders.

 _In the end, there's nothing I can do..._ She finds herself lamenting as she stares off into the blue dark of the woods.

 _Mikoto._

"Tatara, if things go on like this..." Anna can feel the emotions she's held in so well until now beginning to bubble up, almost out of control.

 _Mikoto, I wanted to say...I'm sure this isn't what Tatara would have wanted._

The young girl clenches her fists in front of her as she shouts. Her entire body is trembling. "Tatara, if things keep going this way...Mikoto will–!"

 **Small Strain, do you desire the salvation of that 'King'?**

.

.

.

"...Huh?" Anna straightens her back and glances around. Even though there appears to be no one near by, she's certain she heard a voice just now...

"Who...?"

 **Forgive me. My 'body' is far away, so our connection may be unstable.**

Anna blinks in surprise. The response she receives is almost immediate, and it sounds as though it's being forcefully projected directly into her mind.

Perplexed, Anna tilts her head. There is an effect of great power and familiarity about this voice, though she knows she's never heard it before...

The disembodied voice speaks to her once more.

 **We've never spoken, I can assure you, small Strain,** it tells her. **However, our paths have run parallel for quite some time...**

* * *

 _Anna hates this place._

 _Just the bare fluorescent bars of blinding light affixed to the ceiling are enough to make her turn her eyes in disdain, but the large room itself is painted completely in stark white. It fills the seven year-old girl with an immense feeling of dread that makes her stomach flip around unpleasantly, from the buzz of the blasting air conditioning, to the sterile smell of the counters and pristine, shiny tile floor._

 _It doesn't matter where she looks, because when she's_ here _, Anna will always end up feeling ill._

 _That's why she resigns to watch._

 _The initial, innocent pinch to her dainty fingertips, she knows by now, is nothing more than a formality to the deep, penetrating soreness the cold, thin needle truly intends. Those warm droplets that run in little rivulets between her fingers are so warm and red, she is almost held by a fascination of them._

 _Anna closes her eyes and shivers inside of her paper gown. The monitors connected to the wires stuck to her small form beep at random intervals, relaying her pain._

 _The nurse administering today's dosage of 'stimulation' studies her reaction clinically before moving onto the next finger, unwrapping the neon orange bandage there and applying the same treatment._

 _As the needle sinks into the healing wound, the Strain wills her conscious to float far, far away from this cold and unforgiving room._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _Anna does leave that room._

 _Just like she desires, she drifts far, far away._

 _By means of her unique ability, she experiences everything exactly as she would without leaving her physical body behind. Navigating the frigid hallways, past facility personnel; she ghosts through tightly secured doors. Fresh air and warm sunshine caress her as she steps outside to meet the city of Shizume on an early, cloudless afternoon._

 _She wanders through the streets and softly brushes past the people. There are business men and women, small children with their parents, and even a few tourists. Anna notices a group of friendly-looking teenagers. They are animate and smiling, and appear to be enjoying their day off together._

 _The sprawling city is riddled with busy atmosphere wherever she looks. It's almost overwhelming, but at the same time, Anna feels at peace._

 _A particularly tall building, which Anna has memorized by its unusual, tower-like structure, is Anna's destination. The mysterious arrangement at the very top, reminiscent of a pair of rabbit ears, combined with its glittery, reflective exterior give the building an overall friendly and inviting impression, but she knows from experience that things are not always as they appear._

 _The child hesitates, but at last directs her consciousness toward Mihashira Tower and floats inside._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _The multilevel building hosts only one room that interests Anna–or rather, the facility, where she left her body. It's only through this method that she has ever been able to 'see' and make contact with so much of the world all at once, and so freely. In order to obtain their goal, the people clad in white seem to knowingly take advantage of this without hesitation and proceed with varying extremes._

 _The sliding parlor room doors are so simple that the young Strain wonders if even her small hands could push them aside. It's a much difficult task for her mind, however. Their frames seem light, and their texture looks almost like paper._

 _Mustering all the mental strength she possesses, Anna imagines carefully sliding them along the tracks of the doorway, revealing the source of strength and warmth she feels coming from just beyond._

 _However, no matter how many times she repeats the process, it garners the same result._

 _Determined, Anna is about to try again when an intense, oppressive sensation forces entry into her mind. It's one she has become accustomed to, and recognizes it as the object on the other side trying to repel her far from it's vicinity. Despite how often she's been told to ignore it and push back, it's proven itself simply too strong for her to combat._

 _Pain prickles around Anna's conscious, and in a flicker of a moment, she hears and sees the red of her blood as it swells from her fingertip and drops onto the clean, white counter with a soft 'plat'._

 _Just like that, she is tossed back._

 _The memories of minutes ago quickly permeate her mind. Many sensations coming flooding back to her at once; the coldness of the room, the stiffness of her body from having sat perfectly still. Anna looks down to see the nurse calmly wrapping the pad of the smallest finger of her left hand with a bright pink bandage. Her neck aches and she's developed a headache, but the Strain can only seem to concentrate on the raw throbbing she feels from each brightly bandaged appendage._

 _They serve to inform her of something._

 _"Failure," the nurse comments evenly as a researcher walks in. Anna adverts her eyes and maintains a neutral expression, enduring the admonishment their following silence bestows upon her._

 _"...Understood," the researcher jots something down on his clipboard. "I'll make the report," he informs and then leaves the room._

 _The nurse helps Anna change her clothes before handing her off to a facility guard. He holds her hand in a firm grip and escorts her back to her room._

 _Four days go by before the young Strain is requested to participate in another 'stimulating' exercise, but she is unconcerned. It's only a matter of time before she is asked to try again._

.

.

.

 _It's on the fifth day that she is sent for, and accompanied by an escort. As her mary-janes squeaky against the shiny white tile in the hallway that leads to the usual room, the small girl digs her bandaged fingers into the pockets of her dress, resisting the urge to distract herself from what's to come._

 _Anna and the Dresden Slate seem like the similar ends of two magnets, repelling infinitely._ _But perhaps_ _someday, for just a second, something incredible can force them to touch._

* * *

 **We've nearly met a hundred times _,_** the voice recalls. Those very words hold a heavy weight–it feels like they're pressing themselves onto the Anna's physical mind.

Anna's eyes widen in recognition; she understands before the artifact even addresses itself.

.

.

.

 **I am the Dresden Slate. Rejoice, for at last we're linked.**


	3. Chapter Two

**K Project: REACH**

 _Chapter Two_

 **A/N:** Hey, **xXxAnimeGalxXx!** This story will eventually center around Mikoto and an older Anna! I hope this chapter answers most of your questions.

* * *

The world warps around Anna; it flickers with colors that are not a part of her world.

The space around her head feels oddly tight, as though someone is using their hands to apply pressure. The young Strain extends her arms to hold onto the low branch of a tree for leverage as she wanders into the woods, but she discovers that she's too dizzy secure any strength. Stumbling away, she feels herself sway, then pitch sideways. Her body and the ground meet with a solid thump that shocks her and steals her breath, but the cold rising from the snow that surrounds her quickly seizes any warmth she has left, leaving her completely speechless and staring blindly out at the clearing.

It's the last sensation she knows, before her consciousness is completely extracted from her.

* * *

Somewhere in the back of her mind, in the scary corners where she dares not to venture, she can still remember.

Nanakamado, that is; Nanakamado Scientific Research Center, and every frightening experience it had to offer her.

Being rejected over and over by something that clearly wanted nothing to do with her was something that required seven year-old Anna's additional best efforts not to become discouraged by.

 _"Try again,"_ had been the facility's bland response to her every failure.

Anna supposed that in a way, it was meant to encourage her. If not because they genuinely cared, then there was certainly another reason to keep her head above the water. In order to keep her aunt safe, something she vowed to herself, Anna had to endure until she produced satisfactory results.

Anna had put forth all she could for this alone.

However, even as she grew closer with every session, she felt as though that inaccessible force would always throw her twice the distance she had come.

The amount of time it took for her to come back to herself, both mentally and physically, grew longer. Sometimes, her sense of awareness would return, but her body was left unable to move. The researchers that performed the exercises with her would often relate it to something called 'sleep paralysis'.

Later, after joining HOMRA, Anna would discover that this phenomenon would torment her during sleep. The poor Strain would wake up, unable to move and still caught in a place deep within the nightmarish, imaginative world of her mind. Once, it had taken at least an hour curled up and wide awake next to the warmth of her King just to settle down and drift off to sleep again.

Yes, Anna can recall the capability of that unknown force.

That's why, when she finds herself out of sorts, staring up at the dark ceiling from the floor of an old, abandoned shed, she knows it is such a force that placed her here.

Anna watches the snow sprinkle in from a small crevice in the roof for a long moment, and then begins to look around. Aside from the tiny peak of light it provides, every corner of the small building is pitch dark; were she in her real, physical form, she probably would not have been able to see as far as she could stretch her hand. The aged wooden floor is covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. The air smells damp and a little musty, but for all its discouraging features, Anna feels strangely at peace here.

There is simply something about this place...

At length, the rosy-eyed girl finally realizes that it is not, in fact, the shed itself that makes her feel content.

However, by the time she comes to that conclusion, a pair of soft footsteps are approaching from somewhere within the darkness.

Alert, Anna turns her attention toward the direction in which the sound is coming from. Her normally smooth features pinch with unease when a pair of slender legs wrapped in snug, neutral stockings step into the thin light.

"Sorry to make you wait," a friendly, feminine voice apologizes. Without an air of formality, she recognizes it immediately to be the same one that had called out to her in the snow.

The Strain stands as a young girl, appearing perhaps four years older than Anna, approaches and stands a few feet away from her.

Enthralled, Anna simply stares at her.

She wears her wavy ash hair in a short cut. With her bangs pinned back by a simple black barrette, it's a style that easily accentuates her round, cute face. She is pale and slender in stature, and just a little taller than Anna. The loose-fitting, button-front romper she wears (a light color which Anna cannot be certain of _–_ perhaps white) is accompanied with a pair of dark flats, each adorned with a small bow. The stockings she wears, Anna notices, are indeed neutral, aside from a trail of various stencil-printed jewel shapes that careen up opposite sides of each leg.

Unknown to Anna, the mysterious girl's grey eyes are also assessing her. Eventually their gazes meet, and when they do, the older girl smiles.

Anna's blank expression remains the same as she asks, "Are you the voice from before?"

The short-haired girl folds her hands behind her back and nods. "That's right," she replies calmly. "I'm the Dresden Slate."

The clairvoyant child bats her lashes, contemplating. This person is the 'Slate'? For a few seconds, she wonders if it's possible that she somehow fell asleep back in the woods...

Carefully, the Strain reiterates. "You are..." she begins.

"The Dresden Slate," the said Dresden Slate finishes for Anna with a kind smile. "As I said before, my home body is located far away from your current location, so I've willed your astral self to meet me half way. I thought this form should be pleasing to a young girl, though. Is it alright?" Her grey eyes twinkle with a youthful mirth, but Anna can sense something antique just beneath their round surface. Similar to how she could never reach the Dresden Slate with her power, Anna feels as though there is a heavy barricade currently standing between herself and a part of this person.

What she can ascertain is that past this delicate appearance, there lies something wise and capable; for now, however, that is all her foresight will allow.

"Anna," calls the Dresden Slate _–_ no...somehow, Anna feels as though it's strange to address her as an inanimate object.

The older girl appears to be picking up on her confusion. "If it's easier for you, may call me whatever you'd like."

"Then..." Anna pauses, curling a finger under her chin as she considers, "Destin." It sounds close enough to 'Dresden', which the young Strain has always found a bit difficult to pronounce.

"Destin is perfectly fine!" the Slate agrees, almost enthusiastically. Anna watches her reaction with mild interest. Apparently, 'Destin' really appreciates her new name.

The sound of the snow softly scraping against the roof fills in the gap where neither of them can make words. If the wind whistling harshly through the broken down little shed is any indication, there is a storm brewing outside. The many dangers of that make Anna begin to worry for her clansmen _–_ and Mikoto.

 _Mikoto..._ the young girl's brows pinch together slightly. She looks at the Slate, who observes the subtle change in her expression.

"Why did you call out to me?" she asks suspiciously.

.

.

.

"About that," the Slate mumbles, her happy expression slowly melting into a humbled, complicated sort of look. "Actually...Anna," she begins, "there's something I need your help with."

* * *

 _The large eruption that occurred just minutes ago has the entirety of HOMRA on edge._

 _Izumo's lips clamp on his lit cigarette. He tilts his head down and pushes back the hair against his forehead. Smoke filters through his nose as he flairs his nostrils and exaggerates a sigh._

 _He knew; he knew this would happen, so why does it have to hurt just as if he had been clueless the entire time?_

 _The bartender crushes his cigarette and then makes his way through the confused chaos that is his clan. He doesn't say a word to them, despite how they individually pause as he shuffles past them._

 _He won't say a thing; not yet. He needs to find Anna first._

* * *

Anna simply closes her rose-colored eyes; as usual, her features remain neutral, giving no impression as to what she may be thinking.

When she finally opens them, she sighs softly. With that sigh, accompanies the weight she feels.

The weight of her decision.

* * *

Irony _, she thinks the word is called._

 _Irony; an event that seems opposite to what one expects, and is often amused by it._

 _While this situation was certainly opposite to what she had expected, (in this moment, or ever) Anna can find nothing funny about it._

 _To think that after four years, the object she had suffered for would come seeking her out._

 _The young Strain feels much like a balloon whose air has been let out all at once._

 _"Anna...I know what you must be thinking," the Slate, or 'Destin' attempts to quell what she must believe will turn into an ugly situation before it can even occur._

 _Anna says nothing, however._

 _Destin looks uncertain, though somewhat relieved. Eager to explain herself, she continues. "I'm aware that you were attempting to make contact with me a few years ago. However, due to prior decisions that were already set in motion, I could not allow that."_

 _"Prior decisions?" the young, rosy-eyed girl repeats with a slight tilt of her head. "What do you mean?"_

 _The Slate simply shakes her head._ _"Humanity defines the Dresden Slate as an artifact with the ability to bestow tremendous power to a chosen person, who then can pass similar power onto others, making them his 'clansmen'. That would be correct. However, when a 'King' dies is not something I have the foresight of knowing. My job is only to choose the next 'King'..."_

 _Destin scrunches the fabric of her romper, near her thigh. She seems to hesitate, as if there's something she's reluctant to reveal._

 _"Destin," Anna prompts, waiting for her to continue._

 _Destin lowers her head with a sigh. "Your King, Mikoto Suoh...His sword of Damocles has been looking a little ragged lately, hasn't it?"_

 _That was certainly true; with a small frown, Anna nods slowly to express her agreement._

 _"That has me really worried," Destin admits quietly, her light brows drawing together to express just that. She takes a seat on the floor across from Anna and folds her legs. Anna scoots forward, just a little, so that they're sitting closer together._

 _It's fairly well-known that the last Red King met his demise due to losing control of his powers. The result had been devastating, taking thousands upon thousands of lives, including the Blue King at that time._

 _Up until now, Anna had tried her hardest to convince herself that something like that would never occur to Mikoto._

 _However, witnessing that beaming red light in the sky a while ago..._

 _"You are meant to be the next Red King, Anna."_

 _The young Strain lifts her head; her red eyes are large with surprise, but Destin is looking at her solemnly._

 _"Whether it was today, or fifteen years from now...That was the decision I had made. There were some unfortunate events that I could not foresee, but one way or another, the Red clan would someday become your home."_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _Anna is silent as she slowly processes this information._

 _She should probably be upset; act out, or say something that reflects the animosity that has built up over the loss of her aunt, her parents, and the happy life she used to know._

 _...Except, there isn't anything like that._

 _Surely, there is not a day that goes by when she does not reflect on fond memories with her mother and father. Those kisses to her nose and cheeks as her parents tucked the blankets around her shoulders at night, or the meals that they would cook for her, even pardoning her small appetite. She remembers her aunt's silly, yet compassionate nature and all the trouble she went to, to look after her when her parents were lost._

 _Anna remembers these things, and holds onto them. T_ _hat was the promise she made in her heart when she was offered a home within the Red clan._

 _She may not be upset or feeling quite ironic about the situation before her after all, but Anna is still both very curious and confused._

 _"...If Mikoto dies today," Anna clarifies, and it pains her to even consider that, "...then I will become the next Red King."_

 _At Anna's blunt interpretation, Destin shifts uncomfortably. "Yes, that's right. Mostly, there is no way to avoid that..."_

 _"Mostly?" the clairvoyant girl lifts her head. The look on her doll-like face indicates curiosity._

 _If there is a way to avoid what appears to be inevitable...If there is a way to save Mikoto, then..._

 _Anna feels her heart swelling with hope._

 _Destin presses her lips together and stares thoughtfully at the young girl._

 _A child of merely eleven, and yet, she can feel all the affection she maintains in her heart, for both her clan and her King. She is aware of how especially fond she is of Mikoto Suoh, and understands that if he is to die today, she and the rest of her clan will be beside themselves. In the event that things go this way, Anna will not receive her powers for quite some time, and a majority of the Red clan will likely continue to mourn their late king, even after that._

 _At any rate, Japan cannot suffer another Kagutsu Crater. Should another disaster occur, Destin fears that the inheritance of the title of 'Red King' will soon be considered a curse._

 _The Slate sighs heavily; she is only putting together her analysis of the situation, but she was already sure of the proposition she would make to this young girl before she decided to make contact._

 _"Anna, I'm sure you were already aware of Mikoto's condition. I'm sorry," she apologizes. "My point in reaching out to you was not to make you feel worse."_

 _Anna gazes at her evenly, waiting for her to continue._

 _"Actually, I have a proposition for you."_ _Destin's lips curve into a small smile._

 _"...That is, in order to save the current Red King, I would like you to form the Red clan's first diarchy._

 _Please claim the power of your intended title and become 'Queen'."_

* * *

The first thing that Anna notices when she returns to herself is the snow beneath her.

Wildlife chirps frantically around her. She can sense the onset of the blizzard she has been anticipating just by the way the icy wind howls against her ear.

Stirring awake, the young girl braces her small hands against the ground and slowly sits herself upright.

The dark lashes of her eyes lift to reveal her ignited red gaze.

* * *

 _"If you accept my proposal, the Red clan's current authority, similar to a monarchy will then become something of a diarchy_ – _that is, an authority led equally by two people, instead of one." The Slate explains to Anna. "The power intended for the Red King will remain in Mikoto's possession, but gradually, within five years time, it will be completely divided between the two of you. It's a slow process, but during this time, Mikoto should find that his power is significantly easier to control."_

 _Anna wonders what Mikoto's reaction will be after learning about what she's done._

 _Would he be upset with her? There were times where she had witnessed his foul mood, but none of those feelings had ever been directed toward her before._

 _She briefly recalls a time when he had set the TV in the bar on fire without batting an eyelash after telling Yata to turn it down when he was trying to nap. Chitose and_ _Bandō_ _had come around, and together they had shared a good laugh. After finding out about the incident, Izumo had been even angrier than Mikoto originally was, and_ that _had been one of the scariest things she had ever seen_ _._

 _Come to think of it, that had been shortly after Tatara had taken some photos of Mikoto after he had just woken up, and..._

 _Tatara..._

HOMRA _._

 _In light of the fact that they are running out of time, Anna decides that she doesn't mind if Mikoto becomes angry with her later._

 _Without its King, the Red clan will simply no longer be the same._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _Mikoto, who possesses a warmth, the likes of which she has never known before._

 _Mikoto, with his pretty red..._

 _Taking up the Dresden Slate's offer, she will help preserve that color for as long as she can. No longer, will he have to suffer the burden of the tremendous power of the Red King alone._

 _Mikoto Suoh had once led Anna out of the dark; now, she will do the same for him._

* * *

Anna lets her instincts rule her feet.

Both carry her through the swiftly darkening woods, where she does not pause for the slightest sound. Not a snag in her dress or even a scuff on her favorite red shoes holds enough importance to slow her down.

Looming high in the air, a certain Sword of Damocles crackles with ominous, red light.

Like a marker on a map, Anna's destination is bright and obvious...

However, she has to hurry.

* * *

 _"Will this make Mikoto weaker?" One of Anna's concerns is that, should she agree to the Slate's proposal, Mikoto may become more vulnerable to his enemies._

 _"Certainly not." Soon a_ _fter listening to Destin's reply, however, the young girl is put at ease._

 _"A dominant trait of the previous Red Kings has been their brutality, therefore, they amassed more power than the others._ _This puts them at a disadvantage, though, as the very power they wield is evidently capable of easily destroying them."_

 _Anna's mouth turns a small frown; she understands that much to be true._

 _"Don't worry, Anna," Destin tells the Strain with a gentle smile, sensing her wariness. "While dividing such a dangerous power will lower the chances of something like that occurring, it certainly won't make Mikoto any less formidable a King than he already is."_

 _Anna's small shoulders slowly relax._

 _"Anna..." the Slate addresses Anna, her spiritual form going dim. As her voice recedes, the young Strain notices the atmosphere of the broken down shed seems to be melting away, revealing the woods she lost consciousness in._ _"Up until now, the Red Kings that came before you also bore an amazing strength in their heart, unfortunately, from which their ferocious power fed. With an intense desire to protect, much like a Red King's, combined with a unique empathy_ _I sense deep within you, I believe that you can help put an end to this vicious cycle."_

* * *

 _"I realize that I'm_ _asking a lot of you,"_ Anna recalls Destin's parting words as she's nearly reached the end of the woods, _"but I hope that you'll help me correct the error I've made with the Red clan."_

 _Anna nods; she does not need to consider her answer for much longer. Fearing the occurrence of another tragedy orchestrated by the power of a Red King, the Dresden Slate sought her out to prevent the event of Mikoto's Damocles' Down. While she doesn't know why Destin had intended for her to be the next Red King, she does understand that she cannot dismiss the opportunity she is being given now._

 _For her lovely Red King; for her family, HOMRA._

 _"Please, continue to stay at that Red King's side. I have a feeling that, with time, the bond between the two of you will grow incredibly._

 _Good-bye,_ Red Queen _. I promise we'll meet again soon."_

Ice crunches beneath her feet as the clairvoyant child slows her quick strides to a stop. Her warm breath clouds away from her small mouth in the bleak air as she stops to observe the scene unfolding before her, not even yards away.

* * *

Mikoto and the Scepter 4's Captain, Reisi Munakata stand alone in the wide crater created by the harrowing power of the Red King's last attack.

As the thin haze around them begins to clear, the center of all this destruction is revealed.

Red sparks flit distinctively around Mikoto's form. With a deep sigh, he tilts his head to the sky and acknowledges his fatally fractured Sword of Damocles–a metaphorical, mirror image of his own internal condition.

 _Good riddance_ , a voice at the back of his mind mutters peacefully, somewhere beneath the roar of the adrenaline high he has yet to come down from.

It's done.

That son of a bitch who killed his clansman is dead–Tatara Totsuka has been avenged.

Yet, for such a feat, he finds there is hardly any solidarity between these thoughts and his somber mood.

.

.

.

Tired amber eyes blink away the tiny flakes of snow as they dust Mikoto's fiery hair and catch in his lashes.

Miles away, he imagines that his clan must be looking at the same sky with worry. Yata, being the most air-headed and animate, is probably throwing a fit right about now, giving Izumo all kinds of problems.

 _Poor Izumo_ , Mikoto thinks, not at all sarcastically. His friend will likely be taking responsibility for the havoc they wrecked on the School Island today for a good year or so.

He almost feels bad for his successor, assuming they will pick up where he leaves off–whoever that will be.

Well, it doesn't matter, he decides. His clan might as well be a bunch of ill-mannered thugs, but they're not such bad guys...

 _And Anna_ , the Red King's thoughts roll to a brief halt as he imagines the small, pale-haired child that had curled up next to him only a few hours ago. He recalls the way her rose-colored eyes peeked up at him, glowing with content as he shared the heat of his aura in order to keep her warm. The ghost of a bashful, pink blush on her cheeks after she told him it was warm next to him; how, to her, he was the _only_ warm place.

 _Simple-minded brat_ , Mikoto thinks, ignoring the discomfort that spreads through his chest as he imagines the sadness in her eyes when she is told she can no longer be beside him.

.

.

.

Izumo and the rest would look after her; she would be just fine.

...They would all be fine.

.

.

.

Somewhere, in a place where Mikoto Suoh recently began to shove away such troublesome uncertainties, something rattles in protest.


	4. Chapter Three

**K Project: REACH**

 _Chapter Three_

Intermission

Saruhiko Fushimi once answered to another King.

That King, while aloof, barbaric and headstrong, was also a person wrapped in a great, mesmerizing warmth. Without persuasion, he would attract those who sought such a warmth in their hearts, be it obvious to all, or only to one's knowledge.

That King, without question, protected all who would enter his clan.

Though, should they choose to leave his side, Saruhiko learned, much to his ever-confusing frustration, he would let them go just as easily as they had come.

Saruhiko Fushimi had answered to that King until the day he chose to walk away from him. On days he finds himself alone with his thoughts, he often wonders why he is still able to bear the emblem of the clan he betrayed, and wield their powers as if he still belongs.

 _You still have a place here,_ are the words that always seem to float into his head from somewhere, said by the voice of a young man who he sometimes speaks to in dreams.

A mop of blond hair and twinkling, light brown eyes; no matter the atmosphere, always offering a smile far too kind for the likes of his traitorous self.

Tatara Totsuka is dead.

Yet, like an enigmatic ghost, he is still impacting a presence on this world.

He's the reason why Saruhiko is gathered on this road with his current clansmen. Even in the worrying absence of their King, Scepter 4 continues to respond to orders issued by their lieutenant without hesitation.

With a mellow expression, the third-in-command watches the curvaceous blonde as she speaks quietly to one of the members.

Saruhiko recognizes him as Akira Hidaka.

Akira is a tall young man with a short temper and a preference for action over talk in battle. He likes to participate in trivial activities (trivial, as far as Saruhiko is concerned) when he's off duty, such as gossiping about women or hanging out with his comrades. Since joining, he and the brunet have casually exchanged words on the odd occasion.

However, Saruhiko, other than in the event of work-related situations, knows that he does not interact well with others and has made it clear to all in some way that he has no intentions of doing so.

That's why, when Akira salutes their lieutenant and walks his way with a big smile, Saruhiko suddenly feels like an animal trapped at the very back of its cage.

"Fushimi-san!"

 _Tsk._

Saruhiko sucks his teeth at that annoyingly happy face, which looks very much out of place, given the severity of the current situation. Before he can make up a reason to excuse himself, the Scepter 4 member throws an arm around his shoulder and steers him completely around.

The two of them begin to walk away from the other clansmen and down the opposite length of the long bridge. Cars are piled up all around them, their passengers trying to leave the area since the initial clash between the Red and Blue clan.

Chancing a look over his shoulder while not so subtly trying to shift the other's arm off of him, he grumbles in irritation.

"What are you doing, you moron? I'm supposed to be watching my post."

Akira Hidaka's grip tightens, pulling the dark-haired boy closer so that they are now shoulder to shoulder. His brown eyes peer up as he cranes his head, scrutinizing Saruhiko's face.

The serious tone the brunet uses to scold the higher-up betrays the smile he wore just a moment ago. "You made the lieutenant upset with your curt attitude about the Captain. Now she doesn't want to see your face for a while," he informs, looking irked.

Saruhiko's mood darkens almost immediately.

Ah, that...

He'd nearly forgotten about _that_.

.

.

.

"She'll get over it...eventually," he mumbles under his breath, but it feels like he's trying to convince himself so he can just move on, rather than discuss it with his troublesome comrade.

That small exchange he'd shared with Seri a while ago in front of their clansmen regarding the well-being of their Captain turned out to be only an _interlude_ to the confusing mess he'd later created for himself.

* * *

 _"When did you start smoking?"_ had been the beginning of that conversation.

 _Seri Awashima is leaning against the end of one of the squad trucks parked on the roadside of the patrol site. Her long, shapely legs are crossed, one ankle over the other. The roundness of her backside makes the short, dark skirt beneath the draping fabric of her uniform look taut in an alluring way._

 _Beneath the slowly fading light of the sunset sky, the lieutenant of Scepter 4 is a breath-taking sight to behold. With just the way the wind gently stirs the undone tresses of her flaxen hair around her shoulders, she looks much prettier than all the times Saruhiko Fushimi can ever recall seeing her. More than he is willing to admit, he can almost see the appeal that many of his new clansmen gossip about whenever they're off duty._

Almost _._

 _After all, Saruhiko has always been turned off by the disgusting habit of smoking._

 _The lit stick of tobacco in the lieutenant's hand unfurls thin tendrils of smog, polluting the air with it's heady, toxic scent. The third-in-command resists the urge to press his hand over his nose; the smell almost makes him want to gag._

 _With her head turned away from him, Seri's grey-blue eyes stay focused on the glittering sea beyond the bridge railing as she brings the unlit end of the cigarette to her mouth to take a drag._

 _Saruhiko silently waits for her reply._

 _"...Do you need something, Fushimi?" she eventually asks in her normal, professional calm, but he can sense the 'don't-disturb' atmosphere that warps around her like the most oppressive plague._

 _Too bad for her; he's feeling rather assertive today._

 _"...Like you asked, I've sent Dōmyōji and Akiyama to help the authorities make sure the traffic flow is moving along at a steady pace." Saruhiko informs casually, rubbing his finger against the underside of his nose._

 _That smell is really starting to bother him, but if Seri has any clue, it doesn't look like she'll do anything about it._

 _Saruhiko's deep blue eyes narrow as he scrutinizes the woman who is doing her best to ignore him. He's never considered himself to be particularly good with analyzing other people's emotions, but something is wrong with his lieutenant; that much, he knows is certain._

 _Maybe it's the heavy atmosphere._

 _Maybe it's the irritating smoke, or maybe he simply doesn't appreciate being ignored._

 _But Saruhiko says it_.

 _The first thing that comes to his mind finds its way out of his mouth before he can even consider whether it should be said at all:_

 _Gesturing to the cigarette poised between Seri's slender fingers, he says, "The person you care so much for wouldn't be impressed right now, you know."_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _For the first time since their conversation began, Seri tilts her head in the dark-haired young man's direction. Her eyes cut to him, but away from the light, they look about as dull and as dangerous as sea glass._

 _"I know," she admits quietly, "but recently, I can't seem to stop."_ _She wears a dismal, self-depreciating kind of smile as the smoke gently swirls away from her lips._

 _It's the kind that fills Saruhiko with rare regret._

 _...Such a response was not what he was expecting at all._

 _Cold retaliation. A scolding from her, or perhaps another silent gap in their one-sided conversation, but not that somber look._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _Before he can register his exact fault, a sigh from the lieutenant interrupts his thoughts._

 _Dropping the stick to the ground and crushing it beneath the high heel of her shoe, Seri clips back her hair and straightens herself up. With a nod that's not quite directed at him, she begins to walk away._

 _Saruhiko watches her leave; that expression she had shown him would leave him deeply contemplating their exchange for the next couple of hours._

* * *

He knows that he shouldn't have meddled.

Whatever affairs are between his superiors are really none of his business. He supposes he could chalk this one up to his own insatiable ego.

Sometimes, the way he could behave so childishly surprised even him.

"I, uh...I'm sorry, Fushimi-san," Akira speaks up, looking apologetic. He feels as though he might have been out of line, going as far as to scold his higher up. Even more worrying is that the dark-haired young man now appears to be brooding more than usual.

"I'm sure it can be sorted out. Why don't you try saying you're sorry?"

Saruhiko blinks at his comrade who is still walking beside him, having almost forgot he was there.

"...Yeah," the third-in-command replies with a lopsided grimace.

He supposes he owes his lieutenant an apology after all of this is over.


	5. Chapter Four

**K Project: REACH**

 _Chapter Four_

 _"Sorry...for making you do the dirty work."_

Mikoto Suoh says this with an air of calmness that disturbs the Blue King.

Taking in the red haired man's exhausted appearance, Reisi's simply lets his shoulders drop.

Good grief.

"...Don't give me that garbage while looking at peace with yourself," he chides quietly. He's well aware of what the rival king is essentially asking of him.

Really, did this barbaric man think of him as some kind of heartless monster?

.

.

.

There's no sense in asking at this point, and yet, the captain of Scepter 4 still finds himself wondering.

 _"If you really feel that way...couldn't you have done something about it before this happened?"_

Mikoto's response is a tired, smug smile. "...That's enough, Munakata," he tells the violet-eyed man, seeming to understand the sentiment behind his words.

Then, the Red King spreads his arms out; he looks toward the sky, awaiting his execution.

Before Reisi has time to give thought to this final moment between them, the Sword of Damocles hovering above Mikoto's head begins to lose its light.

* * *

 _"Once, there was a looovely princess who encountered a haaandsome prince!"_

 _It's a quiet Spring afternoon and business is slow in bar Homra. Snuggled up in the establishment on a comfy, brown leather couch with a soft, thick blanket wrapped around them are nine year-old Anna and Tatara Totsuka._ _Anna sits in Tatara's lap with her back resting against his chest while his arms are around her, holding a children's book in his hands. The two are taking turns flipping the thick, cardboard pages._

 _At least, they were._

 _"What's wrong, my princess?" Tatara asks gently,_ _noticing how the small child's fingers are hesitating to turn to the next page. It's her turn, after all._

 _He wonders if she's finally gotten tired of reading this particular book..._ _"Did you change your mind about this story?"_

 _Anna shakes her head of silky white hair beneath the young man's chin. She turns her little mouth in a faint frown and remains silent, apparently thinking over whatever it is that's bothering her._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _Eventually, she asks, "Tatara, why do the princesses never meet a king?"_

* * *

Munakata's sword is poised at his opponent, the long blade shining elegantly despite the grey overcast. Mikoto's arms are spread, patiently waiting for the Blue King to strike.

Anna can't recall a time when she has ever seen him look so terribly vulnerable.

.

.

.

The scene before her is just yards from her reach, and yet, it feels like the entire world is against her interference.

She pushes her small body forward, desperate to reach the area where the two Kings oppose each other. As her pearly white hair whips around her face, her breath comes in short, cloudy bursts in the cool air. The thick layers of snow catch her feet as she runs. It's like the ground itself is trying to slow her down.

 _Faster...Please, let me move faster...!_

She prays that she will make it in time. Tears gather in her eyes at the thought of coming all of this way only to watch her King be executed.

"M-Mikoto..." The strangling cold dulls her words to a whisper when she tries to call out. She stumbles over a gnarled root in her path, but fortunately, she catches herself on the low branch of a tree and avoids falling.

Brushing the white strands away from her face, Anna lifts herself up with determination in her eyes.

She has to keep going...The fate of the Red clan depends on her!

* * *

 _Over Anna's head, Tatara blinks his tawny eyes. "...A king and a princess?" he repeats, sounding uncertain. Such a question has thrown him off guard._

 _How to explain this..._

 _Patiently, the little girl on his lap waits for him to come up with a suitable answer._

 _"Hm, well..." Tatara begins, "it's because_ _the King and Queen have already found each other at the beginning of the story. Usually, when stories like this talk about a 'King', they mean the princess' father, or even the prince's father. A 'queen' is someone who's already at a king's side in the beginning of the tale. When the princess and prince meet, it's the two kings that decide on whether the princess, the daughter of one, and prince, the son of the other, are allowed to be together!"_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"Does that make sense, Anna?"_

 _Anna's small hands curl into loose fists in her lap. With her back to him, Tatara can't see her face, but he can tell by the way her shoulders are tense that something still has her a little upset._

 _He's beginning to worry that maybe she doesn't understand. Although rarely, sometimes he, as well as the other members of HOMRA forget how young Anna is, as speaking in plain terms with her isn't usually necessary._

 _"...It makes sense,"_ _Anna, before he can reiterate his answer, however, nods her head and softly agrees. In all of the stories both Tatara and her parents have ever read to her, it's been her understanding that all 'princesses' eventually meet a 'prince'. It's like an unwritten law in the world of fairy tales. The princess and prince meet, fall in love, face some kind of conflict together and then live happily ever after once that conflict is resolved._

 _If Anna's life were like one of those fairy tales, she wonders how it would go._

 _Often referred to as the Red clan's 'princess', would she then be waiting for a 'prince'? Furthermore, there_ _would be only a 'king' in this story... He would not be her father, but instead Mikoto._

 _The idea of being married off and having to leave Mikoto's side doesn't sit well with Anna._

 _...Taking that into more consideration, she realizes that_ _she doesn't like it at all._

 _Maybe, she thinks, if she were a 'queen' they would never have to be apart..._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _In the story of a kingdom called 'Red', where only a princess and a king exist, what kind of tale would be told?_

* * *

Somewhere, among every monochromatic memory she holds in her heart, Tatara is vibrant. She imagines his handsome smile and kind, brown eyes encouraging her.

 _As it turns out, you're not a 'princess' in this story, after all, Anna..._

Surrounded by a familiar, glowing warmth, Anna calls out again to her King as his Sword of Damocles comes hurtling down. Her small arms reach him in time and crash around his waist. The rest of her body collides with the side of his leg as she buries her face against his hip.

"Mikoto, no!"

 _Being at the King's side near the very beginning means you were never one to begin with, right?_

* * *

The hilt of the Red King's Damocles sword chips off on the left side and crumbles into nothing. Mikoto feels like a target on standby, pinned to the very ground on which he's standing.

.

.

.

So tethered is he to this moment, that he doesn't see it at first.

...Oh, but does he _feel_ it.

Tiny at first, but impressionable; quickly, it becomes something he knows. Like a ravenous demon escaping from the underbelly of hell, it permeates the area in a wide radius with it's heat, reducing the cold masses all around to steam with its fiery claws.

There's no mistaking this power, for it's exactly like his own.

Mikoto shares a look with Scepter 4's captain. With that alone, they each confirm what the other is thinking:

This is sweltering heat is the power of a 'King'–specifically, a _Red_ King.

...But, that doesn't make any sense.

"...Wait, what is that?" Reisi's voice suddenly asks, halting Mikoto's thoughts. He has this (probably) irrational idea that maybe the other will just sucker stab him when he's not paying attention–really, he'd just like to get this whole ordeal over with...

That said, maybe it's a touch of disappointment he's feeling when he sees that the Blue King isn't paying attention to him. He appears to be staring at something to the left of their battleground, past the damp haze that still wafts around them.

Curious, Mikoto tilts his head in that direction and narrows his golden eyes...

That's when he sees her _._

Cloaked in a brilliant red aura that shivers about her petite form like flames, a familiar, white-haired girl is swiftly making her way toward them. So incredible is the power that emanates from her, the heat of her footsteps appear to burn the snow away from the very earth.

Reisi, captivated by the abrupt appearance of the child Strain, snaps his head up in alarm when the broken sword in the air creaks and quickly begins to descend...

However, Mikoto doesn't move.

Even at the cry of his name, he doesn't tilt his head down and blink until Anna's arms are wrapped tightly around him.

Upon that contact, a blinding red light bursts between them. It forces a completely shocked Reisi to stumble back from the pair and shield his eyes as it saturates everything around them, including the massive weapon that has stopped just inches above their heads.

Even that, quickly disintegrates...

Brighter and brighter, that red grows, until Mikoto can no longer make out a single shape in front of him. Every living thing seems to be holding its breath, as nothing but silence accompanies this unknown phenomenon.

Growing dizzy, Mikoto closes his eyes until that overwhelming color fades from his vision.

The sensation of Anna's hug, too, eventually leaves him...

* * *

.

.

.

 _"King...?"_

 _._

 _._

 _"...Kiiing!"_

 _._

 _"Haha...Well, I guess even_ you _could sleep like a log in such a dire situation."_

 _..._

"How irresponsible of you."

"You have no room to talk." Mikoto hears himself snapping in response, almost like a reflex, before he even opens his eyes. When he comes to, he finds himself staring blearily up at a familiar ceiling. The air smells like fine alcohol and cheap cigarettes, and his head is resting against the back of a three-seat leather couch.

Bar Homra is set in a calm afternoon glow. With all sorts of knickknacks strewn about, it's just the way it looked weeks ago. The source of this cluttered mess is seated across from Mikoto at a small round table on which his elbows rest. Two tops spin steadily side by side in the center: one red and one blue.

"That might be true..." Only after the twirling objects collide and gently bounce across opposite sides of the table does Tatara Totsuka finally lift his head and grin.

"Hey," he greets, like it's only been a day since they saw each other. "Welcome to the afterlife!"

.

.

.

Mikoto stares unblinkingly.

"Aha...I'm sorry, I was just kidding! Don't worry, this isn't the afterlife..." the red clansman amends, evidently unsettled by his king's intense yellow stare.

"Unreal," the Red King snorts at the young man–such brass–but otherwise, he appears unaffected. Stretching his legs out and propping his heavy boots up on the low wooden coffee table in front of him, he heaves a world-weary sigh.

This place; this atmosphere.

He knows what this is.

.

.

.

"This is a dream, right?"

Tatara reaches into a small, white wooden box and pulls out a yellow-colored top. He examines it with a slight frown and then sets it aside near the box's matching lid. "That's right," he responds without looking up. The red and blue tops are spinning once more. Though they bump continuously, the tensity between them doesn't seem to be enough to knock them away from each other, or even slow their speed.

Mikoto, somewhat amused, grunts and tilts his head back against the sofa.

Definitely a dream.

.

.

.

Mikoto watches the green top on the table continually spin close circles around the red and blue ones.

He hasn't had many dreams about Tatara since the night he died. Seeing his deceased clansmen here feels like his unconscious mind is reminding him of how much he misses the other's presence.

Probably because he would never admit it to himself.

"Hey, King."

Mikoto lifts his gaze from the little round table to look at the blond. The end of a purple top is held up, pinched between his slender fingers.

"Hm?"

"About Anna...She's growing up, isn't she?"

The redhead shrugs. "She's still small," he comments plainly. "Eats almost the same way as she did when we got her."

"King, that's no good..." Totsuka reprimands, frowning at him. "You can't speak that way about a cute little queen...Not like she's a puppy you adopted a while back!"

Mikoto slumps in his seat and slides his fingers through his wild hair. _Actually_ , he'd been thinking of a rabbit. He thinks his comparison is a lot better than Tatara's–even Anna herself would probably agree.

Realistically, he supposes he doesn't have a chance of winning against Tatara when it comes to things like this.

Only in his dreams.

"...What's this about a queen?"

Tatara is twisting a silver top above the others as if trying to decide where to put it. When he hears his king's inquiry, he stops to stare at him with a mildly surprised expression. The silver top is dropped on top of the green one–the green one bounces off the table and flies somewhere into oblivion...

"Huh?! Are you saying you already forgot?"

The look on his face then softens as he mumbles, almost as if to himself. "Or, maybe you haven't realized it..."

"Realized what?" For reasons he can't explain, Mikoto feels a sense of urgency. If this important thing is about Anna, then quickly, he needs to be informed.

Instead of answering his question, Tatara Totsuka rests his cheek against his open palm and simply smiles an omniscient smile.

.

.

.

"Say it already. I don't have all day." The redhead grumbles, growing impatient.

Tatara's smile wanes, but he continues to stare for a little while longer. At length, his eyes shift to the window situated behind the King and then back to the redhead. "I guess that's true," he admits finally. The look on the blond's face only seconds ago had given Mikoto the strange impression that he'd been trying to confirm something.

Dreams can be like this sometimes, he supposes; so mysteriously detailed...

"King," Tatara continues, earning Mikoto's attention once more. His expression is more severe than Mikoto can recall ever when he says, "From now on, you'll have to keep a closer eye on Anna."

* * *

Izumo is standing at the edge of the woods, just a few feet shy of the abolished field when his sight is nearly swallowed up by a flood of red light. It lasts for only a few seconds, but the intensity of it leaves spots in his vision long after it's disappeared.

When he can see once more, the bartender replaces his dark glasses and hurries toward the slushy crater.

He skids to a stop, however, when he notices a young girl standing in the very center. With her back to him, her head of short, white hair is turned skyward; she is calmly observing something he can't quite discern from this distance... The sleet coming down dusts her hair and the loose-fitting white romper she wears. Her slender arms are positioned at her sides.

Entranced, the bartender stares in awe.

...Who is this girl?

There's something strange about her that he can't seem to put his finger on...

Could she be a Strain?

 _It doesn't matter_ what _she is_ , Izumo soon comes to his senses. His parental instincts kick in as he begins to approach her. _It's too dangerous for someone so young to be here!_

In fact, it was his worry for the well-being of his clan's small princess, Anna, that had brought him all this way.

The girl merely looks over her shoulder as the blond makes his way toward her. When they're standing only a couple feet or so apart, she turns, blinks her grey eyes and smiles pleasantly at him.

"Izumo Kusanagi..." she regards him, almost fondly. She presses a soft hand against his cheek. "Please continue to take care of your queen."

The surprise Izumo feels from her sudden touch, as well as hearing his own name is overridden by his confusion. "Queen...?" he repeats haltingly.

"Take care of your queen," she insists again, gesturing toward the two people Izumo had, until this moment, yet to notice are lying at their feet. Though gentle, the sound of her voice feels as though it's somehow resonating in every atom of his body...

Then, just as suddenly as she had appeared, the mysterious girl vanishes.

.

.

.

Izumo blinks his eyes a couple times and then lowers them to the ground. Laying there on a patch of freshly revealed green grass are Anna and his King. The young girl is curled up against the redhead, one of her arms draped across his stomach and her face snuggled into his hip. They both seem to be unconscious.

As he evaluates the strangely heartwarming scene, he is reminded of the girl in the romper who spoke to him only seconds ago...

 _Take care of your queen_ , she had said while looking over the pair.

...What could she possibly have meant?

Mikoto's fingers unconsciously stroke the head of the child sleeping against him, whose body, Izumo notices, appears to be releasing a familiar, red aura...

.

.

.

 _Ah..._ _So, that's how it is._

Appraising the delicate, yet formidable-looking rapier hovering in the sky beside a newly formed sword of Damocles, the bartender's lips curl into a grim smile of understanding.

* * *

 _A stunning blast of red light._

 _The grip of Anna's little arms._

 _And lastly, his Damocles sword's full revival. Beside it had appeared something smaller, thinner, but equally as breath-taking..._

The Red King slowly begins to remember these things that occurred just before he slipped into unconsciousness.

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"That small princess has become a 'queen'."_

Mikoto is slouching on the couch inside 'bar Homra' with an unlit cigarette drooping from his mouth. The dim orange light of sunset coming through the window behind him causes the small, silver hoop in his ear to glint faintly.

He's still mulling over the words his former vassal has shared with him.

He knows them as a strange truth; after all, Anna has always been a mysterious, capable child.

At one point in her life, her power had been manipulated by those who truly believed she had the potential to do ground-breaking things. Mikoto, although rarely, used to wonder what kind of King Anna would have been, had the institute from which they'd rescued her succeeded in making her the Blue clan's ruler.

To think that she would end up becoming a consort for the other side...

The Red King almost feels like laughing at how ass backwards the rival clan and Kōshi Mizuchi had been in their endeavors.

Still, he wonders...

.

.

.

...Is this really what Anna wants?

This power has been nothing but a burden to him since the moment he became a 'King'. With her empathetic abilities and the odd connection they've shared since their first meeting, she has long been aware of this–a witness to his inner turmoil.

Yet, she has created such a bond with him...

To Mikoto, it's just the equivalent of unnecessarily tethering herself to a beast.

.

.

.

 _...Why?_

He can't wrap his head around this at all. For that little brat to go so far to keep him here...

Hasn't she suffered enough on her own?

"You've got it all wrong, King." Tatara says from across the room, his chin rest against his palm and a smile on his face. All the tops are now lined up neatly across the table. Mikoto can't help noticing how perfectly each one stands on its end.

"Since joining HOMRA, Anna has gained much better control over her powers," the blond explains. "It's because of her clansmen and King that she's now able to live peacefully without the fear of harming anyone."

Mikoto silently presses his lips together over the stick of tobacco in his mouth. The end ignites after he tilts his head down and closes his eyes.

"Could be," he admits after a while. "...At any rate, don't act like you didn't contribute any influence."

Tatara just laughs. "That being true would certainly make me happy."

.

.

.

"I think Anna understands the gravity of the choice she's made," Mikoto's 'vassal' tells him.

However, the Red King has mixed feelings about that.

"What makes you so sure that this isn't a rash mistake?" he wants to know. Although he knows Anna always been pretty wise and level-headed for her age, he can't help wondering if any concerns she might have had for herself were pushed aside in consideration for his 'shelf life'.

Tatara rolls the rim of an orange top against the table in a back and forth motion with his index finger while answering. "Remember when Anna came to be with us? She was a doll-like child who rarely showed emotion. Because of the trauma she had been through, it was difficult for her to open her heart and make connections at first," he says. "I think being raised among a clan that's essentially like a family has eased that difficulty over time, and reminded her of the importance of having bonds."

The ash from Mikoto's cigarette quietly falls to the glass tray on wooden table he's leaning in front of as he studies the red top spinning idly by itself.

.

.

.

"For her, the consequences probably weren't worth hesitating over," Tatara muses, sounding fond. "After all, Anna has always thought so much of you."

.

.

"...Yes, it must be her belief that without its great leader, there can't continue to exist such a family that rescued her from her past misfortune.

* * *

Sighing, Mikoto gets up from the couch and walks toward the entrance of the bar. Still seated at the table among the multicolored tops, Tatara watches his King with a calm expression.

"King?" he calls out softly, just as the redhead's fingertips brush the door handle. Past the blinds, the sun shines brightly through the glass. It's so bright, he gets the feeling that if he looks directly at it he'll be drawn far away from this place and soon find himself awake.

Although, Mikoto doesn't want that just yet.

He stands there, waiting for his former vassal to speak.

.

.

.

"Are you concerned about Anna?" 'dream' Tatara's voice asks.

"What do you think?" Mikoto quietly growls back, irked about being asked a question they both know is unnecessary.

Tatara isn't discouraged by his King's attitude. He hums a soft, amused _hmm_ –in fact, Mikoto is sure he hears a chuckle in there, too.

.

.

"Should I say it?"

.

Mikoto huffs softly; the corners of his mouth form a smirk. Strange as it seems, that box of unrealized anxiety which would rattle before sits quietly now without movement.

Whatever happens from this point forward, the Red King supposes he and Anna will simply learn to deal with it.

 _It'll work out._

"No," he says and pushes open the door. Light floods into the bar, immediately flushing out the atmosphere and all the color. Toy tops bounce past his feet along with other various playthings as he steps through the threshold and into the monochrome city of Shizume.

Everything that seemed to make sense only moments ago has become something completely different.

That's how dreams are, he's reminded.

.

And, this is only a dream...


	6. Chapter Five

**K Project: REACH**

Chapter Five

A/N: Took a hiatus and came back. Yay for a new K anime!

I think I've included everything I've wanted to include in this chapter.

Thank you for reading!

* * *

 _"Suoh-kun?"_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"This voice..._

 _"Honami? No, it's probably..._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"The Dresden Slate...You're the one responsible for all this, right?"_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"...Suoh-kun, from now on things will be difficult for Anna. But, you'll take care of her. I'm sure of it."_

 _..._

 _"Is that so? I guess I don't get a say, huh?_

 _"Well, whatever. If you're starting to have doubts about your decision now, it's too late._

 _.._

 _"As for Anna, I don't need your input._

 _"...But don't worry. We'll continue to look after her._

 _._

 _"Just like we always have."_

* * *

"...to...Mikoto?"

Mikoto is starting to wake up. His brow furrows, and after a low groan, his lids lift to reveal his golden eyes. There's a bunch of blurry figures huddled around him, but the face he's able to make out first is Izumo's.

The redhead simply stares at his friend, his yellow gaze narrowed by the still dispersing fog of sleep. They exchange calm looks as the rest of his vision clears, and it's like sharing a silent conversation.

 _Welcome back. Looks like you're stuck with us, huh?_ There's a hint of a smile in the blond's eyes.

For an answer, the Red king just seems to glower back halfheartedly. _Yeah. Bummer._

With Izumo's help, Mikoto gets to his feet. Warily, he acknowledges his clansmen. They're all relieved to see him, but most of them look utterly exhausted. Judging by their disheveled appearances, they must have hurried to get here during the time he was unconscious.

Once the rejoicing chatter dies down, the Red king's gaze settles on Kamamoto–or rather, the young girl resting against his back. Her arms are wrapped around his neck and her legs are tucked against his hips. Her pearly hair drapes perfectly down her back, and one pale cheek is flush against his shoulder. She would look quite content, except Mikoto notices how her little brows are scrunched together, betraying the illusion.

Mikoto figures she's probably cold, and is considering removing her from his clansmen's care. The sound of his footsteps seem amplified as they crunch against the snow. It makes him pause and look over his shoulder and notice how the atmosphere has suddenly changed.

There's a mixture of emotions; worry and confusion are obvious, but a halting curiosity seems to stand out the most...

Unsurprisingly, his vanguard isn't shy about asking questions.

"Mikoto-san," the skater frowns and jerks his thumb in the air. "What's with that weird sword up there next to your Damocles? Is it really..." he fumbles with his words, looking unsure. "Does that thing really belong to Anna?"

Mikoto rumbles a low, annoyed sort of growl. Then he turns his head, eyes blinking narrowly as he snaps his second-in-command a mild, questioning look.

Izumo goes on to explain. Apparently, he and the other members had all become simultaneously 'aware' of an alteration in their clan's leadership.

"It's hard to describe," Dewa looks perplexed as he rubs his side, where his clan insignia is located. "There was a burning sensation where our emblems are."

"It was so hot! I thought it was gonna sear right off," Chitose adds, scratching his hip. "But when I looked, it was still there."

* * *

 _"What the hell is up with this?!" Chitose hisses, lifting up the hem of his shirt to reveal the pulsing red mark. It feels like someone's holding a hot brand against his skin!_

 _"It must be Mikoto-san's Weissman level," comes a reply from Yata, who's seated on his skateboard and clutching his shoulder in pain. "It's almost at its limit...!"_

 _"We know that much, you whiny chihuahua," Eric snaps irritably, also gripping his shoulder. His blond hair is matted to his forehead, which is damp with sweat. "Still...Shouldn't it stop after a while? I think it's actually getting worse..."_

 _Yata snorts and rolls is eyes, even as his fingers dig into his throbbing skin. "Who's whiny?" he wants to retort, but for once he agrees with the ex-Hikawa member. Any painful indication like this has only ever lasted for a brief time. Despite that, the searing sensation all the members of HOMRA are experiencing seems to be growing more unbearable by the second._

 _"That's it, we're all gonna die..." Chitose dramatizes hopelessly. "Maybe if Kusanagi-san were here...Where'd he go, anyway?"_

 _"Didn't he take off to look for Anna after that explosion?" Shōhei recalls, rubbing at his left bicep. His hat is tucked into the back pocket of his jeans, revealing messy, light brown hair. He paces back and forth between Kamamoto and Fujishima, who are facing each other. Like the others, they appear to be suffering from the same fiery pain throbbing from the location of their clan symbol._

 _Yata shifts his weight and slowly slides off one end of his skateboard. There's a disturbed look on his face as he seems to forget everything else and concentrates on the ground as if he's just realized something._

 _"...You mean the one just a moment ago?"_

 _"No," Bandō informs them from where he sits in the grass, hunched over with his hand against his stomach. "There was another one before that...Although, that one has me concerned as well-Ah!"_

 _All at once, the Red clansmen cover their ears at the sound of a dull, yet loud frequency._

 _To Yata, it feels as though someone is rubbing a dry sponge against his brain._

 _Fortunately, things get better before they can get any worse. Even the insignia on his shoulder has, thanks to some miracle, stopped torturing him. That strange frequency has been reduced to a soft, yet intrusive and pressurized hum that leaves no room for any other feeling in his head. While his hands still hover over his ears, the vanguard exchanges looks with his clansmen, confirming that he's not the only one who's feeling this change._

 _And then, a gentle voice permeates his mind, dominating his thoughts._

 **"Take care of your queen,"** _it commands._

* * *

"Come to think of it," Izumo admits, "there was a strange girl standing over Anna and the King when I got here...She said the same thing to me."

Mikoto quirks a red brow. "A strange girl?" he repeats.

Izumo nods, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "She was dressed unusually," he recalls. Those thin clothes were definitely not meant for such cold weather.

"As for what she looked like..." Izumo pauses, evidently trying to conjure the memory of that encounter. "She had white hair and grey eyes."

"Is that it?" Mikoto asks, somewhat sulkily. He feels almost disappointed by the end of his clansmen's tale. Minor coincidence aside, the girl may as well have been an unstable Strain attracted to the scene by the massive output of energy between the three Kings during their battle.

"Just a weird kid? Didn't she say anything else?"

"No, that was all," the bartender answers his King with an aloof expression. He fiddles with the lighter inside his coat pocket, and then takes it out along with a pack of cigarettes. "After that, she disappeared right in front of me."

Mikoto watches his friend closely as he lights up. Izumo can say whatever he wants, but his King isn't buying it.

Moments ago, there had been something carefully hidden in the blond's reaction to their clansmen's recount about this 'voice'. The slight narrow to his eyes, the way his mouth thinned in a barely noticeable way...

Completely aware of those deceptively calm, yellow eyes on him, Izumo seamlessly changes the course of the conversation and directs his attention to the child sleeping peacefully on Kamamoto's back.

"That rapier in the sky beside our King's sword of Damocles belongs to Anna," he says, not taking his gaze off of her. This affirmation earns the attention of everyone present, including Mikoto. "We're not exactly sure what happened...or why, but I have a feeling we'll be able to discern all the answers we need from our King and our youngest member once she wakes up."

"We're leaving," Mikoto announces, pushing a cigarette between his lips. He lights it with his thumb and shuffles past Izumo and the others.

The members of the Red clan shift nervously and exchange severe looks, but no one is feeling brave enough to extend the conversation.

Their King's word is law, after all.

"Don't worry, guys," Izumo tells them kindly as they follow after Mikoto. "When Anna is awake, we'll sort this out."

.

.

.

 _It really would be best for all of us to leave this place quietly_ , the bartender thinks. At the end of the group, he glances over his shoulder at the area they're leaving behind.

.

.

Especially because _that person_ has already given them a merciful out.

* * *

 **Approximately a half an hour earlier...**

 _"That explosion just now...!"_

 _"This isn't looking so good..."_

 _"What about the Captain...?"_

 _More panic blooms in Scepter 4's ranks. While her presence should serve as an encouraging and authoritative one in troubling situations, the blue-clad soldiers only pause to glance at Seri as she walks by, appearing anxious and doubtful._

 _The lieutenant accepts this as her own fault._

 _...Perhaps, Fushimi's too, if she wants to feel like pitying herself more._

 _Seri has no illusions about the lightning-fast gossip capacity of these men, and realizes by now that word has gotten around regarding her earlier...moment of weakness._

 _Albeit_ _, while there are certainly some things that need to be addressed, they're irrelevant to the present. This situation takes precedence over any personal matters, she reminds herself, letting go of the image of the stunned look Fushimi had given her as she walked away from their conversation and returned to her post._

 _He may have not known her newly acquired bad habit had nothing to do with their captain, but this changed nothing about the painful effect of his words._

 _For a matter not even her subordinates knew of, they were the absolute truth._

 _"Ma'am," a cool-looking, dark-haired young man salutes the lieutenant. His seemingly calm approach causes Seri to pause and acknowledge him, but the way he presses his lips together and adverts his dark eyes as she looks at him tells her Himori Akiyama is actually just as emotionally distraught as the rest._

 _The blonde maintains her own cool facade as she assesses the situation. Everyone appears to be here..._

 _All except for two people._

 _"Akiyama, where's Fushimi?"_

 _"I last saw him with Hidaka, Ma'am," Akiyama replies honestly._

 _Seri's deep blue eyes narrow in light of this information. She remembers telling Hidaka to have Fushimi accompany him when he went to check on the traffic flow out to the mainland, but that had been quite a long time ago! Just what the hell were they doing?_

 _Cursing softly under her breath, the commanding officer places her hands on her hips and calls out to one of her subordinates standing within earshot._

 _Slate of Dresden, don't let her have to regret this..._

 _"Dōmyōji, I'm putting you in charge temporarily, as Fushimi isn't present."_

 _The auburn-haired young man, much like the other nearby clansmen, is evidently stunned. Despite that, he manages to gain some composure and salute his superior. "Y-yes, ma'am!" he says._

 _"I'm taking Akiyama with me to find out about that odd explosion of light. None of you are to leave this area until I contact_ _Dōmyōji," Seri informs seriously, while gesturing for Akiyama to follow her toward the school campus at the same time. "Do I make myself clear?"_

 _"Yes, ma'am!" the Blue clansmen reply in unison._

 _The lieutenant nods. Then, she and her Akiyama leave the bridge ad take off into Ashinaka's dense woods._

* * *

 _Fifteen minutes later finds Seri and Himori nearing the area where the second explosion seemed to have originated. They had run most of the way here, but the trees are starting to thin out, making it easier to see that they have almost arrived at their destination._

 _Himori has never been one to initiate conversations on topics irrelevant to his job, but he's noticed a disquieting atmosphere about his lieutenant ever since they left the bridge. Earlier, there had been some chatter about Saruhiko Fushimi's ill-mannered behavior toward their superior, but he isn't sure if that really has anything to do with her current mood._

 _Maybe it does._

 _Maybe it's something else entirely...Women could be hard to understand sometimes._

 _What he_ does _know is that this tension is causing him terrible internal anxiety_ – _something the cool clansmen usually doesn't experience unless under extremely pressing circumstances._

 _Responsible, respectful and mentally organized; that's normally Himori Akiyama._

 _...Except for tonight._

 _Tonight, Himori wants to throw his hands up and scream out the first expletive his brain can come up with._

 _Furthermore, why_ Dōmyōji _of all people?!_

 _Seriously._ Dōmyōji _. That hyperactive chimpanzee._

 _Himori thinks that if there's anything to argue, it's that there is definitely something clouding his lieutenant's better judgement._

 _"Akiyama..." Seri's soft, panicked gasp causes Himori alarm. He nearly stumbles into her without realizing she's stopped in front of him, just a few feet away from the thick forest and into a clearing._

 _Well...Himori thinks it might have been a clearing. It's kind of hard to determine exactly where the plant life stops naturally with the wide crater taking up a good chunk of the place._

 _But, it quickly becomes apparent to the Blue clansmen that this is not what has his superior worried. Kneeling at the edge of the large hollow in the slushy earth in front of him, she speaks in a frantic way he's never heard._

 _Himori is shrugging off his coat and running to her side before he can make out the first discernible word._

 _"Th-the captain, he..." Seri tries to explain pitifully. Her hand shakes as it moves to brush away frozen, slick black hair._

 _Lying unconscious in the cold and wet is Reisi Munakata._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"I've contacted_ _Dōmyōji and informed him and the others of the situation. There's an ambulance that's going to meet us at the bridge, and a small group that's going to help us get him there, but...the captain's sword is missing." Seri informs her subordinate slowly._

 _Together, they've brought Reisi back into the woods and draped Himori's coat over him so that he might at least maintain whatever body heat he has left. After checking him over, Himori was able to confirm that the captain is simply unconscious._

 _However, he explained, his condition might grow worse from continued exposure to harsh weather while wearing his uniform, which apparently became wet from the melted snow they found him lying in._

 _"Ma'am, I'll stay here with the captain if you want to try looking for his sword," the dark-haired male offers, noticing his superior's distress. They are both pretty shaken from finding their leader in such a way, but Seri clearly needs some time to herself for a while._

 _Seri's eyes brighten a little, and then dim, seemingly at the thought of something. She's probably considering how that might as well be placing all the responsibility of watching Reisi on her underling._

 _Crouching beside the sleeping older man, Himori tries to lighten her heart by calmly adding, "It can't be that far away from where he was. The sheath is gone too, so it must have fallen from his holder somehow."_

 _The lieutenant is put at ease by his words and manages a soft smile. "Ah, well...You do have a point," she agrees. Her blue gaze rests on Reisi for a bit longer; eventually, she turns to the demolished field, back straight and head held high._

 _She is elegant and alluring, yet radiates the domineering aura of a King..._

 _How strange, Himori thinks._

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"I'll be back then, Akiyama. Please keep our King safe."_

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _"Of course, Ma'am."_

* * *

 _When Seri decided to look for her captain's sword, she never expected her search to take her so far away from the woods. Reisi's sword is a little different from those that belong to the members of Scepter 4. A long blade inscribed with a decorative pattern, protected by a dark sheath embedded with gold._

 _Certainly, something like that would stand out in the snow._

 _At least, Seri had been very sure of that until recently..._

 _Maybe she wouldn't find it at all, the lieutenant begins to lament while dusting snow away from her uniform. The little flurries have been coming down on and off, and she knows that if she doesn't return to the bridge soon, she's likely to get caught up in another heavy fall._

 _Oh, and her legs are really cold!_

 _Perhaps she needs to start considering a uniform more appropriate for colder occasions._

 _Nothing too overdressed, just..._

 _"...What is that?_ _"_

 _The lieutenant's feet slow to a stop._ _Just yards ahead lies another deep depression in the ground. Impact from another explosion? Such a large radius..._

 _And in the very center..._

 _"My god...!" Seri gasps, and suddenly she's running as fast as her body will allow her. As she approaches, the great flaming beam of light infinitely piercing the cloudy sky shivers and then begins to unravel, down into nothing._

 _Onto someone. Away from something..._

 _Two bodies lay in the frozen crater. A third one kneels over them, clearly distraught. Seri is nearly out of breath just trying to reach them, but her heart almost stops altogether and plummets into her stomach like a ball of ice when he turns his face and looks at her._

 _"Seri..." Izumo's mouth drops open and her name falls out–an alarmed half whisper. Dim, wide brown eyes stare at her, and the helpless dread Seri is privy to for all of two nanoseconds makes her want to turn around and run in the direction from which she'd just come. Her_ _sense of duty grabs a hold of her fight or flight instincts and drives them far away._

 _"Izumo," her expression hardens, and she extends her hand to rest firmly on his shoulder. She tries to ignore the way his whole body is shaking beneath her fingers, but it's difficult._

 _It's so difficult to see him like this, but she has to ask him...She has to do her job._

 _A storm of heat and crimson light brews quietly above their heads. Two objects. One familiar and, to her astonishment, in_ much _better condition than she remembers._

 _The other is...Well,_ clearly _, it's a..._

No, it couldn't be...What _is_ that?

 _The lieutenant takes her eyes off the sky to look at the unmoving bodies of Mikoto Suoh and the little girl tucked into his side, both wrapped in the same red glow, and then Izumo._

 _"I don't know," the blond rakes a hand through his hair and leaves it, but his voice is more controlled than before. He doesn't look at her as he repeats himself. "I don't know."_

 _"I won't accept that answer!" Seri insists, raising her voice. The HOMRA member is shocked by the volume of her voice, but his eyes quickly set into a glare that's unobstructed by the frames of sunglasses._

 _Seri just glares right back._

 _"Why is it still here?" she demands._

 _"Can you be more specific, Awashima-san?" the bartender replies with commendable calm. He casts her a telling side glance as he reaches for the lenses sitting in the snow and tucks them into his shirt pocket._

 _The blonde opens her mouth, an equally smart remark ready, but instead she pulls in a breath that chills her teeth. "Suoh's Damocles. It's still there, when it shouldn't be." Another breath. Slower. Through her nose._ _"...I was on the bridge. I saw it come crashing down right before the first explosion. So, tell me_ –"

 _"Tell you?" Izumo sounds incredulous. He looks at her like she should be ashamed, and for half a moment, she nearly is._

Stay professional.

 _"What should I tell you?"_

You must even put your own feelings aside in this matter.

 _"He's my_ King _. You want an explanation for why he isn't dead?"_

Scepter 4 is counting on you to sort this out, and the captain, the captain, the–

 _Seri feels as if her whole body is starting on fire. Swallowing the sob that's building up in her throat, she balls her hands into fists and holds them at her sides._

 _"Izumo, please...My men are anxious. My subordinate and I found the captain lying in a hole in the ground. He looked so pale...He was so cold, I thought..."_

 _Izumo sighs and shakes his head. Seri goes quiet when she realizes she's merely rambling_ – _none of this is really useful, or relevant...and Izumo is of no mind to care._

 _._

 _._

 _"I'm sorry," the bartender says after a very long while. When she looks at him, he's the Izumo she knows. A kind face behind tinted sunglasses. A man who loves his bar. One would be a fool to try and reckon with this man._

 _When the lieutenant gives him a puzzled and slightly embarrassed look, he huffs a small, humorless laugh. It's the Seri he knows, in a candid moment. Demure and graceful. A strong woman made of soft features. He thinks one would be a fool to try and reckon with this woman._

 _"You're not going to inform me of what happened here." It's not a question, and it's not an assumption. It's the end of their conversation._

 _Izumo looks at her, but she can't tell what he's thinking. He doesn't say anything._

 _"I...also apologize," Seri admits, nodding her head. She is the picture of professionalism. All business. "Kusanagi-san...I was thinking of my King as well, however, I'm afraid I was being too insensitive_ –"

 _"Seri, I can't tell you what happened here because I don't know," Izumo interrupts, but his tone is light. Sedated. "I really don't."_

 _The lieutenant crosses her arms over her chest, but her expression remains sympathetic. "But you know_ something _." She nods to the sterling object floating next to the Damocles in the sky, and then looks pointedly at the blond. "It won't remain a secret forever. Whatever it is, whatever happened here...Scepter 4 will soon know. I'm asking you now to be forthcoming, for the sake of both of our clans. I don't want to see another fight like this for a long time."_

 _Seri waits._

 _Izumo's calm gaze shifts to Mikoto and the young girl, as if contemplating his answer._

 _He stares at them, but he doesn't speak._

 _._

 _._

 _"..I see." Eventually, the lieutenant of Scepter 4 uncrosses her arms and sighs. "This is unfortunate, but I understand that there's nothing I can say to persuade you at this point."_

My words couldn't reach you...But, I suppose I already knew that they wouldn't.

 _"Excuse me, then. I have to attend to my men."_

 _Turning on her heel, Seri begins her trek back to the bridge._

It's going to continue, isn't it? All of this fighting. Even after such an ugly battle...

Am I turning my back right now because I have no other choice?

 _"When we meet again..."_

 _"It goes without saying, Awashima-san. Please keep working hard."_

 _"...Until then."_

Or for you?

.

.

.

 _Izumo watches until Seri's retreating figure is hardly visible in the sea of snow. He can feel the energies of his clansmen approaching quickly, and imagines the young woman must have also sensed them coming._

 _The blond tucks his hands into his pants pockets, suddenly feeling very exhausted. It's as though the weight of the past few months is finally leaving him. One battle is behind them; one vendetta laid to rest._

 _Izumo bends down to gather Anna in his arms, taking great care not to jostle her awake. The little seer nestles her head against his shoulder and mumbles softly in her sleep, and he watches the silver sword part from the greater, flaring Damocles and drift over in response._

 _"Honestly, what lies ahead of us is anyone's guess..."_

* * *

"With all due respect, ma'am...Is it really alright to let the Red clan just leave?" Himori Akiyama asks his lieutenant, quietly and courteously. They're standing on the bridge, seeing the ambulance transporting their King safely off the devastated island. Seri looks down at the sword she's holding in her hands and she presses her lips together, blue eyes mild and thoughtful.

"I'm afraid we don't have a choice," she confesses. Her nails tap softly over the familiar pattern on the sheath, fingers caressing slowly, apologetically. She'd found the sword stuck in the ground about a half a mile south of where she left Izumo on her way back. Himori had already gone ahead and met the group halfway to the bridge after receiving word that the paramedics had arrived. By the time Seri got there, Reisi had been loaded onto the car and the doors were already closed.

 _It's alright_ , she told herself at the time. _Everything is under control._ They would follow him to the hospital. Fushimi and Hidaka had returned to relieve Dōmyōji while she was gone, and had instructed him to take the ride there in the ambulance. He would let them know as soon as he learned Reisi's room number.

But now, with the day at a plateau and all of it finally over with, it was inevitable that she would find herself replaying the events of the very intense last several hours. Seri leans against the sturdy railing of the bridge, arms folded over one another, staring out at the horizon. Critiquing every moment she'd contributed. Wondering if she'd really exhausted all the authority she could in every situation where it was necessary.

She thinks so.

Without thinking too hard, she can say that she believes so.

.

.

As long as no one asks her if it's _really alright_ to let the rowdiest clan in all of Shizume _just leave_.

Seri closes her eyes and exhaustion immediately ensnares her like a surprise trap. She can't decide if she needs a cup of hot tea to relax her nerves, or a stiff drink.

Setting that thought aside for later.

"Let's go, Akiyama," the young woman sighs, placing their captain's sword on her hip and gesturing for him to follow her to the last truck remaining on the bridge. The days ahead of them are going to be uneasy, but she has hope that they can all get through them–together.

Himori stalls a few feet behind, and then catches up to her side. "Ma'am," he says quietly, but nothing more.

Seri's lips form a small, appreciative smile.

 _Yes_ , she thinks. _Of course we can._


End file.
